


Oxidation

by ghostfuzz



Series: Mechanical Animals [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A weak almost not there at all plot, Amputation Kink, Bucky's Recovery, Gen, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Internalized Homophobia, Kinda, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Past Brainwashing, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, SO MUCH THERAPY, Slow Burn, Therapy, steve likes bucky's arm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-14
Updated: 2014-04-14
Packaged: 2018-01-19 07:35:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1461070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostfuzz/pseuds/ghostfuzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stared at the man on the display.  He wouldn’t have made the connection between himself and this ‘Bucky’, if not for the reflection off the blue glass.  That other man had his face, he had that man’s face, but he did not see himself.  There was no recognition, and he kept running over the facial similarities between him and the other man lest he fall back into thinking he was looking at another of the many faces on the wall.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oxidation

            James Buchanan Barnes.

 

            His target called him that on the Hellicarier. The name picked at the back of his brain and was accompanied by a bitter metallic taste at the back of his mouth and a sudden feeling of vertigo

              He walked briskly, in a daze.  He was more than comfortable acting without thinking.  That was his comfort zone, the place that was safest, provided the most efficient kill.

            But now he felt too clearly. His body burned. He felt every crease in his leather, every interlocking layer of his metal arm. Sand sank beneath his feet.  He didn’t know what to do.  His thoughts were of his mission.   _Remove Captain America. Ensure and Defend the launch of the Helicarriers. Report back to Base._

            He wasn’t on the Helicarrier anymore.

            The Helicarrier was in the Harbor.  

 

            He failed.

 

            The thought jolted him, his entire body tensed and throat clenched. His hands shook. He forced his eyes back open.

 

            No, no, the mission was recoverable. _Remove Captain America. Then Report to Base._

            He could track _.  Track his target. Return to Base._ Mission Success.

            Autopilot was easier. He wanted to sink back and let his body do his job. But he could not fail.

            He needed to think to complete his mission.

            He needed information.

 

           

            The Red Room trained him to be stealthy, to track his target in the field.  Not to infiltrate, and not to be undercover. He was too valuable. He was frozen for those missions. They put him in the line of fire and put him away when they were done.  He had survival training, but it centered around either getting back to his handlers or awaiting their arrival.

 

            His clothes were too soft.  He picked them off a weak man in an alley. He readjusted his mechanical arm, settling it further down into the front pocket. He couldn’t risk light reflecting off the metal. He concentrated on relaxing his face, slowing his walk.  He had enough training to know to be as inconspicuous as possible.

 

            His thoughts ran ragged. He attempted to make sense of the time and day, ruffled through this training for protocol on the situation he was in and continuously came up empty.  Should he have been lost in the field he was to return to base. But the mission was not complete.  And the base was different every time he woke up.  Where was base?

            He fought the painful aching wrongness of not having a set of instructions to follow. As he paced the voice of the Target looped around in his head, taking the place of his orders.

           “Bucky?”

           “Your name…is James Buchanan Barnes.”

            He faulted.

            He was his Master’s weapon.

            He was the Winter Soldier.

_Remove Captain America_.

            He clung to the thought like a dying man.

             

            A few blocks into the city he registered a low groaning sound. For a moment felt a rush of correctness, a sense of purpose.  He needed food.  He knew how to handle that.  But it dissipated just as fast- protocol said to return to base and consult his caretakers.  That was not an option.  He glanced over several restaurants as he stalked down the street. But that was not food from his handlers- and that was against the rules.

            He turned a corner.

 

 

**Captain America: An American Hero!**

 

            He paused.  He lifted his eyes to the sign.  A building.

            _Gather information on the Target._

 

            He stared at the man on the display.  He wouldn’t have made the connection between himself and this ‘Bucky’, if not for the reflection off the blue glass.  That other man had his face, he had that man’s face, but he did not see himself.  There was no recognition, and he kept running over the facial similarities between him and the other man lest he fall back into thinking he was looking at another of the many faces on the wall.

            “Bucky” died in 1943, he breathed still. “Bucky” smiled in a lop-sided, sly fashion, eyes glinting with pride and life while he stared unblinking and blank between “Bucky” and his reflection.

             He read the five sentences below The Name until he could repeat it too himself as he wandered back into the city, blind to where his body was taking him.

**Author's Note:**

> First fic since 2007 good Christ.
> 
> Yet another Bucky seeks out Steve to recover his memories fic. The prose is disjointed and somewhat repetitive to try and get across how confused and broken Bucky's programming is. He has no memory of saving Steve. He has little memories of his other assignments.
> 
> His thoughts will only degrade more and more, which is going to necessitate that most of the narration is going to pass to Steve later. 
> 
> feedback?


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